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Post by Argentina on Jan 10, 2013 20:58:08 GMT -5
Martín was on one of those famous Tango schools that crowded Buenos Aires, this one was smaller than the usual and much more intimate to create the right feel for that cold night. He was used to the weather but he knew it would be a good excuse to drink wine and the closeness from his dance since the Brazilian seemed to be unable to bear low temperatures. He was leaning on the counter wearing the traditional tango hat letting it hide his bright green eyes. Everything was planned to impress, to be perfect, the school was located on a noble district called Congreso, next to the most important avenue from his city, 9 de Julio. The only thing that wasn't alright was the fact that Luciano was much later than he used to.
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Post by Brazil on Jan 10, 2013 22:05:16 GMT -5
In his defense, Galeão was not an airport to be trusted.
Luciano huffed as soon as he left the cab, breathing heavily into his palms to create some minimal warmth in his nearly frozen fingertips — fuck if he hadn't forgotten to put gloves on again. He never took Argentina's winter seriously, but he figured he might as well start doing it, because the thing was bitchier than the land's owner. To counter it, he had put on a shirt (after all, he was going to dance tango, and he just wouldn't let that arrogant Argentina have a remote excuse to mock his clothes), a sweater and a woolen coat on top of it, plus a scarf. Luciano certainly looked like a penguin, but that was far beside the point. Like Hell he'd get a flu either, no way.
He looked up at the small tango house, surprised for once. He had guessed Martín would take him to one of his cheap, tourist trap houses, but the blond has gone for quite the minimalistic alternative instead. Or so he thought, because the place was small... That, of course, until he walked in — no use knocking, Martín had probably set the place for only themselves, and the other's monumental ego, always — and noticed how decorated the place was. It had quite a charming atmosphere, despite it being... not Brazilian, and his shoes made small clacking noises against the linoleum, setting the beat of the music. Of course, Luciano had that too back at home, in his samba houses, but that'd be for.. Another day.
"Boa tarde, Martín!" He greeted the other finally, a wide smile gracing his features as he stripped off his coat, sweater and scarf, dumping it all on a chair. Martín looked... Well, he didn't look bad, per se, not with the elegant hat covering his eyes, although still letting on his smirk, or even— Chega, Luciano! "Am I too late?" he leered and winked, walking softly to where the Argentine was, adjusting his shirt as he went. He could impress too, if he wanted, and boy, he did.
Boa tarde = Good afternoon/evening. "Chega, Luciano!" = "Enough, Luciano!"
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Post by Argentina on Jan 11, 2013 8:51:51 GMT -5
Martín smirked softly as he heard the Brazilian's steps, he knew he had a special rhythm even when he was just walking and it blended perfectly to the music, Astor Piazzolla, of course, his genius and idol. He took off his hat for a moment looking up at Luciano, he was terribly elegant wearing a shirt, something he wasn't used to see, Dios mio, he usually had a total lack of style on clothing, if his idea was to impress he sure was doing it.
"Hola, Luciano. You're late but I'm used to it." he smiled softly, for once not trying to piss the brunette off, that was a special night, he would hold his ego to show how Argentines could be charming, even if Martín was certain that he was irresistible holding his ego or not.
"Do you want to start or maybe have a glass of wine first, you know, just to loosen up." he insinuated pointing a bottle of wine next to two crystal wine glasses.
Dios mio = My God Hola= Hello
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Post by Brazil on Jan 11, 2013 14:57:38 GMT -5
Luciano laughed.
Of course, not as soon as he stepped into the room, Martín just had to offer him a glass of wine... What was that, a date?! Unbelievable. It had all started because he, Luciano, had invited the arrogant blond to enjoy the next year's carnaval celebrations in Brazil for once, a charming city called Salvador which Martín would certain love. How that small invitation turned into Martín pushing him into visiting Buenos Aires to learn tango, however, he still had not the faintest idea. But it would be fun because hey, how bad could things possibly get?
"You're a show-off, did you know that?" He kept his smile, walking towards the table anyway. He was cold, after all, and the red wine would at least warm him a little. "One glass, then we dance. And only because I'm cold!" He insisted, uncorking the bottle and serving the two of them. Martín obviously wouldn't mind him taking the liberty, would he? Argentines, they were all crazy.
"And it's not my fault I got late." He went back to the previous subject, a hand on his pants' pocket as he held the glass in his hand, twirling it absent-mindedly. "My airport got messy, with all the cup's reforms... My president mentioned privatizing it, anyway, Galeão, you know? But I don't know, I think we can... could do it. I'm sure until February I'll have everything ready, FIFA is up on my neck already." He made a face and of course he had to ramble about a completely unreasonable subject because hey, at least it'd excuse himself, no? Not that Martín wasn't aware of the news, he probably laughed maniacally in his office every time a random journalist mentioned how late the works in Brazil were, even. Probably no, certainly.
"So, cheers?" He stretched his arm a bit, the one holding the glass, looking up at the Argentine. They could call it a truce for one evening, or so he guessed.
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Post by Argentina on Jan 11, 2013 16:48:55 GMT -5
Martín watched him pour the wine without saying any words and took his glass ans twirled it before smelling that rich scent, he was completely addicted to wine, any kind of wine but obviously his Malbec was the number one of his list, and, of course, was his choice for this night. If he was trying to impress he needed to impress at every detail not that the Brazilian would notice the richness from the wine.
"You don't need to excuse yourself, Luciano, at least you're here." he crowed, satisfied for being able to bring the brunette to his country. "And well, salut!" he smiled raising his glass and toasting before he sipped the wine paying full attention on Luciano. "After we dance we can finish this bottle, it would be a waste if we didn't." he smirked taking another sip.
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Post by Brazil on Jan 11, 2013 17:38:01 GMT -5
The glasses clicked, a loud snap of crystal against crystal echoing around before Luciano took his sip, closing his eyes a bit. The wine was strong, round in his mouth, but it wasn't bad and it did the job of warming him, the cold no longer being a bother. He eased his posture after the first sip, smiling at the liquid.
"Not bad." The Brazilian let out after a minimal silence, then downed the glass and rested it on the table, wiping his mouth clean after. "Right, I'm warm now, can we please get things over with?" There was a minimal hint of irritation on his voice because frankly, sitting around watching life pass by was not for him. And he had been invited to dance, not just chat idly like an old lady... But of course, Martín loved sitting around in a café, pretending he was European, and Luciano would never honestly voice out that he both admired and hated the picture.
Not that there was anything to be admired in Martín. Fine, Buenos Aires was a charming city but... Oh, damn, he was spacing out. Luciano blinked a few times, then shook his head and walked to the middle of the room. "Whatever, Martinho, we drink later..." He didn't want to say he was growing bored already, itching to move because he couldn't stand still for two seconds, and maybe he was nervous too, that he wouldn't be able to follow the stupid dance, making a fool of himself. Shit, as if he needed to dish out another reason to be made a joke of.
He paused in the middle of the room, center of all attentions, which weren't many, just as the music ended, and let his arms fall dully at his sides. C'mon, Martín, his smile said, show me what's the big deal about your stupid dance.
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Post by Argentina on Jan 11, 2013 18:33:16 GMT -5
Martín was shocked, his face was completely red, not from being flustered but because he was entirely mad, mad at that moron that just proved that he had no class and no respect for the good things. That's why his country was the way it was, uh he felt he was regretting inviting that brute to his sanctuary. His green eyes were shining coldly, like he was able to kill the other if he wanted to, he wanted to, that was clear but he promised himself it would be a good night, no fights, no problems.
He changed the music to his favorite, at least it would make him feel lighter about the situation, La Cumparsita, it hurt him that the most famous tango song around the world was composed by an Uruguayan but most of people didn't know that and he wouldn't complain to take the credit, it started simple like a greet and following the song he moved closer to the Brazilian stopping in front of him. "I hope you don't mind if I lead you as a woman. There's no way to show it having only two people, you'll be able to lead me after." he grumbled not waiting for him to answer already holding one of his hands gently while the other rested firmly on the Brazilian's waist.
"First we can walk to the side of our holding hands facing it" he said raising their hands and looking on that direction seeming confident "Are you ready?"
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Post by Brazil on Jan 11, 2013 19:41:32 GMT -5
For someone who prized himself on being so elegant and polite, a pearl of civilization in a continent of salvages, Martín was quite the pervert. Luciano smirked a bit once he felt the firm grip on his waist, but paid it no mind. Who was he to say no when the Argentine wanted to touch him so bad? He knew enough about dancing to say that, before taking any partners, you always started with a broomstick, but of course, Martín wouldn't have it that way. Well, he wouldn't deny the blond such a simple pleasure, if he was that desperate.
And talking about Martín, he had quite the angry blush. It was rather cute, how the other was pale enough that the blood rush made him look nearly sunburnt, but come to think of it, it was a stupid reaction to him downing the wine. He served himself, he drank, they were happy. Simple enough, what was his problem? And then they call the Brazilians crazy... Plain rude, in his opinion, and he could live without the murderous glare.
Still, the tug on his waist made him actually pay attention.
"Cuidado com a mão boba, viu?" Luciano whispered once they were close, tilting his head a bit up — stupid idiot just had to be taller than him. He laughed and nodded after, however, tilting his head to where the blond wanted him to face. It wasn't hard, and he certainly would get the hang of things soon enough... Well, until they began with the bizarre cross of legs and he just wasn't honestly going to put his thigh on Argentine hips, no way. He had class, and pride, and a reputation to zeal.
"Ready." He nodded, shrugging and taking a step forward along with Martín, their knees flexing with the step. "Next?" He looked up, blinking and waiting. Wasn't he just being lead on? Then very well, Martín, order on.
"Cuidado com a mão boba, viu?" = I have no idea how to translate it literally, but he's basically telling Martín not to let his hands... wander.
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Post by Argentina on Jan 25, 2013 9:04:29 GMT -5
Martín didn't know it was possible but after the Brazilian's words his face met another level of redness, the one that was mixing the deep anger he was feeling to be mocked that way with some kind of shame. Come on, mão boba. He didn't need to use those tricks if he wanted to get close to someone he liked, Luciano was delusional, like always. All the Brazilians, a delusional people. He sighed deeply trying not to face the brunette as they danced, walked gracefully with a slow yet intimate pace. He closed his eyes for a moment feeling the music wipe away any bad feeling he was having at the moment, he couldn't ruin his moment, the perfect time he would show how superior his culture was to him. The music was starting to go a bit faster, the rhythm of the violins handing over all his Spanish heritage, fiery, passionate. Martín smirked for a moment before opening his eyes again, he was feeling confident and refreshed. He turned to face the smaller man, his bright green eyes meeting the others deep brown. That was something Martín was completely unable to understand, Luciano was so open to meet other people, so easy to talk to and, to be mad at of course but yet his eyes had a mysterious sparkle that he wasn't able to understand and he surely felt bad for that. The Argentine shook his head to stop himself to daydream so much. "I hope you're ready..." he murmured softly, the tug on the others waist getting even more firm, he stepped back and flexed one of his legs making the other almost touch the floor behind him. That sudden movement made the Brazilian lean forward enough to make his chest be gently supported by the blonde's knee. That made their faces get really close, Martín was keeping his smirk anxious to see how the other would react with that, like the other asked, he wasn't allowing his hands to wander, good thing that he had all his body to interact with him.
I'm not sure if the position was made clear by my description, anyways, there's a picture of it here.
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Post by Brazil on Jan 25, 2013 18:31:13 GMT -5
The dance did not begin well for Luciano. The leg-crossing was strange, and not maxixe, not lambada, forró or anything from his place could remotely help him in the situation. Good thing he wasn't rigid when it came to dancing in general, and perhaps, remotely some bit of lambada could help him but.. No, it couldn't, because it was not a quick dance, although he had to, unfortunately, as the woman, swing his hips maybe far too provocatively. Still, Martín had offered him enough guidance to get by, orders murmured between steps, as he ignored whether or not the Brazilian was following, yet they were getting somewhere, oddly enough.
By the second time, after he had observed and half-assedly learned where to move his feet, after the dance had become more predictable as a whole and Martín wasn't being such an asshole about showing him how to properly dance instead of showing off, well, Luciano dared say he could handle it. One night wouldn't turn him into a professional, of course, and the stupid Argentinean's clothes were not keeping him very focused, but he could have the cheek to say he was not being a bad partner at all. He had not stepped once in the other's toes, and by the time the music's tempo had quickened, Luciano felt confident enough to try a few steps himself, flings of leg as he was used to seeing on the streets of Buenos Aires, nothing big, but as Martín didn't complain, he figured he was on the right way. Luciano honestly felt as if he could carry on with tango — he only had to learn the more complex steps, which would have to be left for another occasion, but as a hobby, or occasional thing, he could do it more often. Certainly, sometimes he missed the rhythm and slipped into one of his own dances, but nothing big.
Then it all went to Hell.
He felt the harsher tug on his waist, a strength he was only used to seeing coming from Martín when they fought, and suddenly he lost his ground, right in the middle of a switch. His eyebrows went high up, and he was about to mutter a good old curse when he felt his chest supported by the other's knee. Their faces got close, far too much to be accepted in a dance, or between them in general, but he wouldn't dare complain — after all, Martín was still the one blushing, not him. Ever. "A warning would be nice, you know." He tried at first, which was not the best answer he could give, then licked his lips and grinned himself, despite the sudden urge to punch the other in the guts. "Now, if you wanted a kiss that bad, you could have just asked." Which was not the most brilliant thing to say when their lips were nearly brushing, he had to admit.
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Post by Argentina on Jan 29, 2013 7:12:00 GMT -5
It was always fun for him to watch the Brazilian, he was sure he never met someone so committed to learn from other cultures, it was beautiful to know that he even had an art movement to mirror this ability to learn everything, mix with his own culture and turn it into something brand new and unique, the Antropofagic Movement, which had as a starting point the tradition the natives had that once they ate another man they would incorporate his essence and blend it with his own, here the same goes with art. That was brilliant but obviously Martín's pride wouldn't allow him to say he admired this trait so much, alright... Maybe after some wine.
Things were going smooth and calm, boring even, until his idea to show him some... Advanced tango position, not even close to be the most intimate, he wasn't sure of what the Brazilian would be capable of if he held his leg and made it wrap around his waist, it would be hilarious but maybe would cost him a black eye and Dios, he isn't the type who likes to have his perfect face ruined. To see the others flustered face was by itself a good entertainment, and his words, ah, his words, it was sweet to notice that he didn't quite know what to answer, coming from a guy that always had harsh answers it made the whole situation taste like a victory to the Argentinean. "Well, at least I said that I hoped that you were ready, it's something, isn't it?" he murmured with a husky voice, all his actions perfectly planned to enjoy the brunette's presence with an excuse to be mocking him. "And you're right, if I wanted a kiss why didn't I ask for it? I don't know, Luciano, I'm not the type that usually asks for what I want, even more when I'm certain I'm not the only one who wants it, am I correct?" the smirk widened.
Martín leaned closer, not even a small trace of hesitance on his actions and closed his eyes before pressing his lips to Luciano's, only for a brief moment but long enough for him to feel how soft his full lips were, that wasn't usual for guys and he was certain that this trait was earned by his traces of African blood, Martín opened his eyes again and gazing him from such a small distance made him blush slightly, being almost transparent wasn't good when he was trying to show his confidence. He looked away for a few seconds and back to him suddenly feeling uncertain of what kind of reaction he would receive.
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Post by Brazil on Jan 30, 2013 17:27:10 GMT -5
“What?”
No, the bastard had to be plotting something, to speak so smugly… Take what he want, Luciano honestly should just stick his finger up in Martín’s face and quickly diss a ‘listen up!’ because frankly, the guy could barely control the piece of land that belonged to him, much less take what he wants with all that ego. Honestly, the Brazilian knew he should have avoided that egocentric Argentinean, but does he ever listen to reason?! His blood was boiling at that ridiculous smirk, but before he could simply punch the other’s beautiful pointy nose back into his skull, he got… A kiss?
Luciano’s eyebrows went up high for a second time, but as soon as he had his eyes closed to enjoy the kiss, it was gone. Martín’s lips were very thin, occasionally even chapped — although not this time — and that was honestly all he had managed to process with the short peck. Still, the other kissed with arrogance, and that, come to think of it, was not the first time it happened… But it had been a long time ago, and the Brazilian had an awful memory. Seriously, that guy was made up of far too many contradictions for the Brazilian to remotely understand how, exactly, he could go from offending him to stealing a kiss.
… Not that he was complaining.
Still, he opened his eyes again, and was about to take action, really, yell and shout and kick the other in the balls until he kneeled and begged for mercy but… He couldn’t, Martín’s blush was far too priceless for him to do anything. Luciano smiled widely as he pushed them both back into a standing position, only to let go and laugh loudly, until the whole room was filled with it, and his eyes brimmed with tears.
“You’re… No, says the guy who ‘takes what he wants’ but can’t steal a kiss without looking like mother just caught you with the hands on the cookie jar!” He mocked, then walked close again and cupped Martín’s cheeks, a wide Cheshire grin plastered on his face. “Look at you… Honey bee, you could give classes on competence after that!” He winked, tapping the Argentinean’s cheeks.
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Post by Argentina on Jul 3, 2013 16:07:45 GMT -5
Martín felt even more nervous when the Brazilian helped him go back to the standing position, he could feel plenty of heat waves running through his cheeks tinting his face crimson. He hated how the other seemed to be an expert to go from fairly offended (even knowing that it was extremely hard to offend the Brazilian, maybe saying things about his soccer but almost never with actions) to acting all confident and mocking him and, ugh, that was probably one of the worst things he could think of. His frown started to deepen more and more at every word he said.
How dare him? It was his territory, he wasn't supposed to take the upper hand.
"Che pendejo, usted es un hijo de puta. Boludo." he snapped backing away from him and raising his hand to prevent any other attempt coming from the smaller one to touch his burning cheeks. "Fuck you, I don't look like a child, it's not my fault my skin is so light, I'm only blushing because I'm mad at you, I'd never blush for being shy in front of you, it's not something I would do, isn't it obvious? I thought you knew me but no, you're a self-centered stupid guy that tries too hard to mock other people. Guess what? You weren't successful, I'm mad because I need to watch this kind of pathetic attempt to look cool." he knew he wasn't making any sense but now he was too angry to think properly.
Martín turned away and almost rushed to the counter of the tango school, his steps echoing against the wooden floor, he leaned on it and took the wine bottle giving it a large gulp. Why care to look sophisticated when you were almost melting of shame, he thought it was impossible to hate the Brazilian more than he already did. He always thought it was until the very moment he discovered a whole new tier of irritation. He shut his eyes trying to focus on the deep taste of the wine and the good Piazzolla piece that was still playing, slowly he was able to stop panting and turned his eyes to Luciano with an icy piercing gaze. "I hate you."
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Post by Brazil on Jul 3, 2013 16:53:19 GMT -5
Luciano was a man with patience enough for many things, but the Argentinean's constant bitching was not one of em. The Brazilian sighed heavily, watching the blond curse loudly and gesture, much like Romano, yelling and insisting on lies, his thick eyebrows going higher by the second — what the hell?! He had just lightly mocked the other, couldn't people take jokes? He still talked to Martín despite that awful accident he had been called 'macaquito', the little shit.
"Ah, vai pra porra!" The moreno waved a hand, his watch shining a bit under the low light of the stablishment and also under his white shirt. Stepping after the blond, he grabbed Martín by the shoulder, forcing him to turn around so they'd look at each other in the eyes. Luciano always prefered em that way, looking firmly up at each other, and thhe Argentinean wasnot one to disappoint when it came to speaking with pride.
"Do you even realize what you're saying? I just joked, fuck! But apparently now you're the only one who can joke or else God forbid someone talks shit about the mighty Argentina!" The moreno gestured loudly, waving his hands up as he glared back. "So just... Ah, para com essa viadagem, vai?" Martín would punch him, he knew it but couldn't bring himself to possibly care. That's it. The blond had done it, he had fucked up the whole night... Well, maybe they can fix it, or more like Luciano could, because now the idiot would just sulk like he had sucked on a lemon permanently.
Right, he'd try it.
"Look, fine, I'll play by your rules, yeah?" He waved a hand tiredly, scratching his neck after. The Brazilian twitched his lips, frowned once or twice, then looked up at Martín like a kicked, badly hurt puppy. "Look, if I say I liked the kiss anyway, do I get another one? Will you at least be happy about it?" Because Martín didn't hate him, he never had, and with more than enough reason to.
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Post by Argentina on Jul 16, 2013 7:27:08 GMT -5
Martín was about to punch him in the face when he was turned, he left the wine bottle on the counter and sighed looking away just of a second before gazing into his eyes again, he was almost pouting at the other as he saw how much the other was trying not to ruin that night, the exact opposite of what Martín was doing, but it was hard for him to maintain his composure when his cool was in the balance.
"Sí, sí, lo siento, Luciano." he frowned saying coldly just to deepen even more his frown more because of the tone he used to the other "Mierda, you know what you just did, don't you?" he was impatient, still feeling too fragile, it was one of the things he hated the most, feeling fragile about how he felt for the other "You can mock on how my clothes are prissy, how my country is not even close to have the same position as yours, how I still have a broken Portuguese when it seems you can speak my language with no problems but no, I won't take you mocking how I act towards you, ok?" said that he felt the blush deepen even more, usually he would simply call an end to the night and regret later looking at his cellphone considering if he should or shouldn't call the other but maybe his Malbec was helping with something.
"It's not playing by my rules, is just respecting the fact that, for genetic reasons, I..." he sighed crossing his arms and looking away seeming utterly nervous "That I blush for nothing, alright? You know that already, I know that already, so just... Stop pointing that out!" he said the last words louder like a warning that he wouldn't repeat that ever again.
Finally his thin lips broke into a smile a sparkle of excitement glowing on his eyes as he shyly avoided the others gaze murmuring "Did you really like the kiss? I thought it could be cheesy but you really liked it?"
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